Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Freya
T wo weeks had passed since she stood in front of two blank headstones. Freya had been avoiding Luke because she didn’t have a good enough reason for her fake fiancé to still be away.
Freya stood at the bottom of her staircase, used one hand to hold on to the bannister and let it take the weight as she flexed her knee to slip on her black-heeled shoes. One after the other, she pushed them on. Standing tall, she took a couple of steps to the long oval mirror and swiped on lip gloss.
It was Thursday, and her evening class beckoned. She couldn’t wait to have all of her evenings back. Not that there was a lot to do now her best mate was loved up at the mansion. But still, teaching kids and the odd adult life skills and French wasn’t the best way to spend two hours after a full day of teaching.
Freya put on a short leather jacket with no adornments, not even a zip, her handbag over her shoulder, and she was ready to go. One final look at her hair, and she caught the twinkle of the ring on her finger. For a heavy ring, it never moved even a little bit on her finger. Freya loved it and would keep up the ruse as long as possible because she had beauty on her finger.
Swiping her keys off her hook by the door, she was on her way to the school. With pencil-thin heels, she opted for the road instead of the pavement. Nothing, if she could help it, would ruin her navy suede heels. She hadn’t changed out of her navy pencil skirt but had swapped her cream blouse for a navy fitted t-shirt. The jacket was cream suede.
Freya loved beautiful things. She worked hard to have a wardrobe filled with clothes she loved. She paid a fortune for shipping, but what else would she spend her money on?
Football practice was happening in the gym, so the school was already open when she arrived. The old building was rock solid and freezing cold every day of the year. But it had a charm she loved. As a pupil at the school, she often wore layers under her school uniform with thick tights. While others sat in class wishing, they could put their coats on. Wearing coats in class wasn’t allowed back then and wasn’t allowed now. So when she had to take hers off, she was still toasty.
Now she could hug a thermal mug with its own mat to keep the contents warm and her hands. She wasn’t going to show weakness in front of these kids.
Shouldering the classroom door, she shoved it open and kept her foot at the base to wheel the case in and hold on to her coffee mug.
“All right, settle down. Try to behave. There are adults coming to class this evening, not just you rowdy lot.”
She pulled the case on wheels to the chair sitting behind her desk and parked it to one side. Five school kids were mucking about at the back, playing a game she didn’t understand. They shuffled around, looking like they weren’t allowed to engage with the others. Like they were opposite magnets. Another kid sat on his own behind a desk and looked bored out of his mind.
She knew why all six were there. It was a mass fight in the hallway a week ago. As punishment, they were assigned five evenings of life lessons and French.
Very few adults signed up for evening classes at the school, so she inflicted her life skills on the kids who were in detention. The schoolchildren went home first, ate their dinners and then came back. During the winter, she had a full turn-up as there wasn’t much else to do, but as soon as the weather changed, she had a litter of excuses fall onto her desk.
She was three kids down but had three adults attending.
“Miss, why have we got the oldies coming?”
“They’re not old,” Freya replied. “They’re my age.”
“Exactly,” the kid mumbled.
“Hey, make yourself useful and push the tables and chairs to one side of the room. The side that doesn’t have the plug sockets.”
That side was the window. Groans and complaining echoed around the room as sulky teenagers dragged the tables instead of lifting them, making screeching and scraping noises for a solid two minutes. By the time they were done, she had a headache forming.
The door opened, and three adults walked in. Two retired men had recently lost their wives and were learning how to fend for themselves.
And Luke Turner.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded .
He looked freshly showered, his hair a little damp. Dressed in dark jeans and a white shirt open at the neck. It was one of those shirts with no collar. He wore it loose over his jeans. Then she gazed at his boots that were kicking the floor. It was his innocent smile that had her eyebrows knitting.
A chorus of heckles came from the kids.
“Hush, you lot,” she barked out.
Then a chorus of laughter.
“Is that how you greet all your students?” Luke asked, sauntering in like he’d attended all her classes.
Freya walked towards Luke while the other two men joined the school kids who had hefted up onto the tables shoved to the side. She had a peanut gallery.
“Not usually, but you’re you. Why are you here?”
“You have ignored me for two weeks. I’ve assumed you have been spending time with your fiancé, but I’ve missed you. If this is the only place I can spend time with you, then so be it.”
“You can’t be here,” Freya insisted.
“Why not? I’ve paid my money. I can be here. The kids are here. Those two men are here. I can be here. I’m ready to learn life skills.”
“Oh man, you are too much,” Freya muttered. “Come with me. We need to grab the ironing boards.”
“What?”
“Tonight, we learn to iron shirts and some other things.”
“What other things?” he asked as he followed after her out of the room.
“Kids, behave while I’m gone. I’ll be able to hear you, so keep things civil,” Freya shouted over her shoulder. When she looked back, she was startled to see Luke very close .
“I’ll keep a watch on them,” Bobby, one of the older gentlemen, said, tapping his nose.
Five of the kids aimed their groans his way but didn’t move from the desks. The sixth kid, Kenny, dropped his shoulders. Freya didn’t miss that.
“Come on, trouble,” she said to Luke and strode down the hallway.
The supply cupboard wasn’t far. When she got there, it was unlocked. A silent thanks to the premises staff for getting her note.
Freya walked into the dark room, pulled the drawstring above her and tilted her head to see where the ironing boards were kept. She tiptoed towards them when she spotted them and then kicked the bottom.
“What are you doing?” Luke asked, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe.
He had his arms crossed, and his hip cocked, one side dropping down.
“Telling the spiders I’m here. Giving them a chance to run for it.”
“Still scared of the beasties?”
“That’s your fault, Luke. You locked me in the vault and wouldn’t let me out. All those webs told me there were spiders bigger than my head.”
“The door jammed. You were in there for thirty seconds, max.”
“Enough time for all the creepy crawlies to run over me. I still swear a tarantula dropped on my head.”
“There are no tarantulas on Copper Island.”
Not satisfied, she kicked the ironing board again.
“So you say.”
“So the scientists say. ”
Freya huffed and lifted the first ironing board, and brought it over to Luke.
“Hold that,” she said with a sour face.
“You’re cute when you’re angry, not letting go of something that happened when we were eight.”
“I have a long memory.”
She brought over three more boards and clapped her hands together to get rid of the dust.
“Let’s go. You can carry them as punishment.”
“What for?”
“All the scrapes you got us into over the years.”
“You liked those times. I miss those times. Speaking of which, when will we work on the gravestones?”
“What about Saturday? I have the day free, and it looks like it will be good weather.”
“It’s a date.”
Luek took two boards under each arm and marched them back to the classroom with Freya following. She took more notice than usual at his powerful arms carrying the boards like they were made of cardboard.
They entered the room to find all eight of the occupants in silence, swinging their legs back and forth.
“I miscounted. I need another one. Can you get these set up? The irons are in the case by my desk.”
“Sure. Do I get a reward for helping?” he asked.
Freya looked around the room to see a row of amused faces.
“What reward do you want? I might consider it.”
“Is your fiancé working here tonight?”
“Why would he be working tonight?” she asked.
“He’s a teacher, right?” Luke said evenly.
Shit. She’d forgotten that lie .
“There are no single male teachers in the school, Mr Turner,” one of the kids helpfully offered.
Freya made a mental note to give the kid detention every time he broke any rule. No leniency for him. She swung her gaze over the kid and back to Luke.
“I never said he was a teacher,” Freya said.
It made things ten times worse because Luke’s grin widened so much that he was devilish. Freya usually backed away when he broke out that grin, but today she had the delinquent kids looking at her, waiting for a reply.
“Plug your irons in and ensure they sit on their ends. I don’t want us burning down the school. Cynthia Turner would not be impressed that her family’s donation was in ashes because we couldn’t iron a shirt,” she ordered.
Freya wimped out and got back to work.
Luke’s grin was now approving as he nodded.
“Find your pairs.”
Freya watched as Luke looked around the room at his options. He strode over to the quietest kid in the room. Kenny. He muttered something to the boy. Round eyes and an open mouth responded to whatever Luke had said. The older gentlemen paired up, and so did the other kids, making a two and a three team. There was minimal shoving. Instead, the five boys, thick as thieves on a bad day, looked over at Luke and Kenny. They weren’t so smug now.
If Luke paired with Kenny, the other five made two teams, and the older gentlemen made a pairing, she wouldn’t need another ironing board.
Once they were all set up at their stations, Freya opened her other suitcase and draped four white shirts over her arm. She circled the room to each pairing and gave them their shirts. Luke and Kenny were last in the semi-circle .
“Are you okay with being paired with Luke Turner?” she asked Kenny.
“Yes, Miss Riley,” he replied immediately.
“Do you know this man?” she asked.
Freya knew Luke hadn’t been back long, but maybe Kenny had been with his dad up at the estate and met Luke then.
“We’ve met before, Miss,” he said.
“Oh?”
She directed her question to Luke.
“We met the morning I got off the boat. It’s a small island. I’m bound to meet everyone eventually, Miss Riley,” Luke said.
There was that grin again, making her flush. She wished he’d turn it off in public.
What he said was true, Freya reasoned. Still…
“All right. Get ironing, and while you’re producing the perfectly ironed shirt with no tram lines, we’ll go through what we learned on Tuesday. I want the American states.”
Luke rubber-necked around the room, looking for answers to what Freya was talking about. Kenny muttered to Luke, and he nodded.
“We’ll start with Luke and Kenny.”
“Virginia,” Kenny said.
“North Carolina,” Luke said.
And so it carried on while they ironed they took turns to recite the American states. Then it was South American countries. Finally, they moved on to European capital cities. By the time their memories had run dry, the shirts were done. They weren’t perfect, but a good effort was made. Freya went around the room to inspect their efforts and openly laughed at Luke’s effort .
“You’d wear a jacket, right, if that was something you’d wear?” Freya said.
“No, I’d get Maggie to do it,” Luke replied like she’d asked an absurd question.
“When you get yourself a wife, she will not iron your shirts and won’t allow Maggie to do it. So I’d suggest you have another go.”
“How certain are that my wife won’t iron my shirts,” Luke asked, head tilted, eyes sparkly with a mischievous grin.
Freya was silenced. She didn’t know where her certainty came from and had no answer. That was another lie. She’d answered like she would be his wife, and she had no plans to do his ironing.
Ignoring his question, she continued her instructions.
“Okay, let’s get these irons unplugged and put to the side. Fold the boards and rest them against the wall at the front. Then get the tables and chairs back to their proper places.”
Luke cackled from the back while he reached over to the plug socket. She gave him a glare, but he didn’t see her. But the other kids did and laughed behind their hands.
“I think I’m enjoying detention,” one of the gang said.
Luke’s head turned when he straightened and looked at the kid who spoke.
“This is detention?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, Miss makes us learn life stuff while we have detention. The other teachers make us do our homework.”
“How many other teachers are there who cover detention?” Luke asked.
Freya wanted to blurt out it was a trick question but kept her mouth shut .
“Seven. They’re on rotation,” the delinquent kid volunteered.
“And you’ve been in them all?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Don’t you ever learn to stay out of trouble?”
“I think the island’s definition of trouble is not the same as the rest of the world.”
“What did you do this time?”
The kid didn’t answer and shifted his gaze to Kenny. Luke followed the trajectory, his eyes narrowing, his face turning annoyed.
“Again?” he said, raising his voice. “After we last spoke?”
“He started it,” the kid protested.
“I bet there was a reason why,” Luke clipped out. “Do we need to have another chat?”
“No, Mr Turner,” the kid replied.
“You sure about that?”
“Certain.”
Luke kept his gaze on the kid and then swept through the last of them and finally to Kenny.
“Did you really start it this time?”
Kenny nodded.
“Good for you,” Luke replied.
Freya was about to protest when Luke’s eyes swung her way. They were intense, so she kept quiet. She’d never seen Luke that intense before, not even after a session with his aunt.
The other adults moved the boards to the front. The delinquent kids moved the tables and chairs while Luke spoke quietly with Kenny. It was all Luke talking while Kenny listened, nodded in places, and finally dropped his head and sighed.
“We clear?” Luke said in a louder voice .
“Yeah, Mr Turner,” Kenny said, and oddly, his face brightened.
Freya was desperate to know what had gone down. She’d never seen Kenny look so optimistic or look at the other kids without fear in his eyes.
Whatever Luke did was a marvel.
Later when the class was over, Luke helped her to take the ironing boards back to the cupboard, put the irons back in the suitcase and shove the shirts as tightly as possible in a pillowcase, ready for the next outing of how to iron a shirt. It turned out they were all a lot better at ironing a shirt than balancing their bank accounts. Each of them had a fake bank statement and a pile of receipts. None of them balanced. The whole class was laughing at Freya’s exasperation.
They were walking back to her classroom, where he took the suitcase on wheels from her hand while she locked up her classroom and kept it in his hand while they exited the school and strolled down the quiet road to her place.
“I really enjoyed the class. You looked good at the front, keeping their minds active while they got through two hours of punishment.”
“They’re good kids, really, just bored. I’d like a week where one of those five kids isn’t in one fight or another. Or skipping school or giving the staff backchat. The list is endless. Far worse in the winter. I swear they deliberately act up, so they have somewhere warm to go in the evenings. Those kids don’t have the best home life.”
“That’s a shame. They need a hobby or a job that keeps them active.”
“Not a lot to do on the island during the off-season. I’m sure they’ll be on the first boat off here when they finish their education. ”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“What did you say to Kenny?”
“Guy talk, you wouldn’t understand.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to teach him how to fight?”
Luke gave her an expression of hurt, even stopping in the middle of the road to put his palm flat on his chest.
“I would never…” he said like she’d wounded his pride.
“Oh god, you are. I don’t want to know. Leave me out of it.”
“I’m not going to show him how to throw a punch. He’s fourteen. I have an idea, though. I need to talk to the others first. If they agree, I’ll talk to you next to see if it interferes with their schooling, rules, and shit.”
“Wow,” Freya said.
“What?”
“You’re following rules?”
“Yeah, kind of have to on an oil rig, boring as fuck, but it weened me off constantly wanting to break all the rules.”
“Ah, you see kindred spirits in those kids.”
“Maybe. But they don’t seem to have a dad or a mum steering them on the straight and narrow. They are each other’s best friends, so there is no voice of reason. I had a great dad and the best of best friends, and I don’t think they have that.”
Freya stopped in front of her house and looked at Luke standing in the middle of the road. He was looking around like he hadn’t said the sweetest thing. They didn’t do emotional talk. Ever. It was boisterous, tree climbing and getting into trouble with his aunt. Writing letters about what was happening in their lives. Not once did Luke tell her she was the best of friends. His brothers and sister were the shit. Pride burst in her chest at the words .
“Luke,” she said.
“What?”
This was said in a normal tone like she was about to ask him if he wanted an apple or an orange.
“Nothing. You coming in for a coffee?”
“Sure. You have any biscuits?”
“Absolutely.”
Luke gave her a beaming smile and wheeled her case up to her front door, and lugged it inside once she’d got the door opened.